The changing face of politics in Malaysia

As election season gears up, social activist Lai Chen Heng says the era of blind loyalty is waning. Even amid the hype surrounding the latest anti-establishment movement, voters are hopeful yet approach the matter with seasoned scepticism.

As the political landscape of June 2026 shifts, the emergence of Parti Bersama Malaysia (Bersama) and the ‘Reset’ movement commands attention.

Having spent the last two years championing the ‘Bersamamu, Wangsa Maju’ initiative, I view these developments not as mere coincidence, but as an indicator of a changing narrative. Let me be clear: my work is independent of the party bearing the “mouse deer” (sang kancil) emblem.

Politics, like any complex system, is prone to entropy. The influx of new arrivals into these emerging movements is telling. Publicly available data suggests that while 46 per cent of new members in the party bearing the mouse deer emblem are politically unaffiliated, more than half come from existing political backgrounds, particularly Parti Keadilan Rakyat (PKR).

For a movement that claims to represent a break from the status quo, this is more than a statistical curiosity. It is a structural stress test.

To understand the current friction, we must look at history through the lens of institutional management.

Let us return to 1998. It was a year of profound change. For me, it was also the year Steve Jobs returned to Apple. The company was on the verge of bankruptcy, weighed down by redundant products and a fractured vision.

Jobs did not save Apple by chasing trends. He restored focus, demanded operational excellence and removed the deadwood that was draining the company’s potential.

Coincidentally, 1998 was also the birth of the Reformasi movement in Malaysia. Both Apple and Reformasi were trying to answer the same question: how do you rescue an institution from stagnation?

The answer, as Jobs demonstrated, is to strip away the noise and return to the core mission. That is the essence of true Reformasi. It is not about expansion for optics; it is about strengthening the core so the entire system functions with purpose.

Since entering politics, I have encountered many of these so-called deadwoods. They occupy space within organisations without contributing to growth. They are not fighters; they are parasites.

They are rarely seen on the ground, yet often become the loudest voices in coffee shops, invoking the names of senior leaders to create credibility. When challenged, they claim the mantle of the “old guard” or “pure reformists”.

Their rhetoric constantly revisits past struggles. Yet when real work is required, they disappear.

In this age of AI and instant gratification, another dangerous fallacy has emerged: the belief that digital virality equals political authority.

New political movements are often seduced by engagement metrics, mistaking a trending clip or sharp social media post for genuine grassroots influence.

Yet urban issues, whether drainage, city landscaping or CCTV monitoring, are not solved by optics. They are solved through persistent, often unglamorous work on the ground.

When a movement prioritises the content of politics over the conduct of governance, it enters a cycle of diminishing returns. Voters are increasingly sophisticated and can distinguish between online performance and real-world delivery.

The era of blind loyalty is waning. Even amid the hype surrounding the latest anti-establishment movement, voters are hopeful but sceptical.

They have been disappointed too many times by the “chosen one” – figures with impeccable credentials who ultimately fail to deliver. The modern electorate is pragmatic. Voters have grown weary of grand visions they cannot see translated into daily reality.

Instead, they value leaders who are present, accessible and sincere in addressing everyday concerns.

I have no desire to be an orator or social media hustler. My principle is leadership by example.

Pakatan Harapan’s two-decade struggle taught me that dismantling a government once considered too big to fail was not achieved through rhetoric. It was achieved through grassroots endurance, consistency and hard work.

Ultimately, politics – like life itself – is a journey. As we grow older, we realise that while we carry the weight of yesterday’s grievances, our tomorrows are limited.

With families, commitments and circumstances often beyond our control, perfection becomes secondary. We learn instead to accept the best possible outcome within the boundaries of reality.

These reflections are drawn from personal experience. I have walked these halls and once stood alongside those who have since moved on.

To those friends, let us maintain our camaraderie. We may disagree, but we remain peers. I hope sincerity remains our primary compass.

As the late Lee Kuan Yew once said: “This is not a game of cards – this is your life and mine.”

The views expressed here are the personal opinion of the writer and do not represent that of Twentytwo13.